RWBY: Alkaline
by Shadowtrack
Summary: Just as lightning is an extension of the sky, so too is truth an extension of the person.
1. Calm Before the Storm

A promise of a new dawn began to grace the sky with its faded golden-red sunbeams. A chili red hue overtakes the eternal clash of the morning light and starry sky, allowing the shadows on the ground to wake from their slumber, clinging to their tangible counterparts. The light's sovereign rule begins to conquer the canopy of a towering tree in a remote forest between Vacuo and Vale. Its sunbeams crept at a turtle's pace down the leafy top of the elder tree. Crickets serenade the last scraps of night that blankets the damp forest floor, courting them to stay just a little bit longer. Beneath the current domain of the light, a pack of beowolves emerged from the remaining veils of darkness to greet this wooden wonder. Their claws drag on the ground as they slink closer to the massive earthy-brown roots of the tree. Full of ire, their fur was oily and ruffled. The wolves' movements are sluggish, as if they have had little prey to go on for the past month. The pack's number is 10 and most of the wolves are around human size, though they have oversized claws for their stature, protruding from their paws like steak knives, razor sharp and very long.

However, one looms above, making the others look like puppies. It has menacing, blade like teeth whose canines extend past its mouth similar to a sabretooth cat. The claws on the beast are only marginally bigger than the others of the pack, but much denser. The tips of the claws are needles; incredibly sharp and ready to pierce even the thickest of hunter armour. The beowolf's body has callous spikes protruding from its skull, arms, and along the back as a bony fin structure; an alpha. Its movements are more refined, more focused. The alpha sniffs the air for a moment and begins to drool; the smell of human flesh and emotion rides on the wind. Its source comes from atop the mind-bendingly tall tree, which the wolves fan out to encircle. The alpha utters low growls to the younger Grimm to attack the tree. The younger ones begrudgingly oblige, and claw away at the trunk of the behemoth. To their confusion and frustration, their razor claws seem to be doing nothing to the integrity of the tree; it brushes off their ear-piercing gashes as nothing more than a scratch. The tree is outfitted with a coarse metal, encompassing its trunk stretching up to the heavens of the tree's canopy.

Irritated, one of the youngest wolves riles back and charges at the reinforced bark. It slams into the wood with a resounding thud, but hardly makes a dent. All it manages to do is startle a couple birds and shake a few leaves off of the lower branches. It howls in pain, as its dislocated arm hangs limp at its side. The howl echoes to the sky, and finds its way inside a tree house resting in the elevated branches of the elder timber. A young man lays sleeping, and has on a white t-shirt with some deep purple sweat pants. Its sole resident stirs from the shrieks of the wolf. His platinum blonde hair and baggy sleeping clothes stick to the steel plate beneath him. He creaks open his eyelids to reveal blazing blue eyes, but decides to just turn over on his gleaming bed. "I'm sure…they'll tire out eventually…" he yawned out, and closes his eyes once more.

The sun's rays finally claim victory over the canopy of the tree and commence their invasion of the ludicrously large window of the elfin house. Its interior is compact; the light revealing a modest living accommodation. Closest to the window is the lazy boy and his bed, now restlessly squirming to and fro trying to find a comfortable spot to vanish back inside his head. He seethes out a prolonged groan after his flopping about caused his foot to slam into a worn cabinet. The kicked cabinet is one-half of a set, separated by a tall and narrow door. The two shoddily built dressers looked like the wall is the only reason they stay upright, resting against the walls as an old man does on a cane. Poorly hammered in nails are smashed into the cracked wood of the dressers, presenting the inexperience of the builder. The shelves inside are angled at a small slant and shows signs of misuse. On top of the nearest, a dark tan and durable leather vest rests on the top of the cabinet. It has a distinct old world texture, being somewhat rugged to the touch. However, upon closer inspection, the vest reveals that it is made of a more modern material. Its fibers are taught and strong, but allow for a great range of motion. Two identical symbols lay just above the chest line, each depicting a blue feather, which is jagged and curved. Seldom pieces of blue lightning spring from its outline.

Haphazardly stuffed in the drawer underneath the vest, a bursting ocean blue long sleeve shirt lay crumpled into a ball. The shirt is very well cleaned, and its material handled with care, soft and inviting to the touch. On the biceps of the two sleeves, dust patterns roll across the fibers. They are woven in a geometrical pattern, depicting a yellow square from which two arrow-tips extend from opposite ends. A white outline ran the edges of the design, only drawing attention to the oddities in contrast of the otherwise cerulean shirt. The next drawer has a set of animal skinned pants; presumably the same material as the vest. As such, its feel is noticeably coarse and chafing to the touch. Another design of strange interwoven dust runs down the sides of the pants from belt to the ankle seams, this time with the same blue hue the shirt had. This one was different, looking like the tail and wings of a hawk meshed together at the edges. Oddly, the other dresser is lifeless and dusty. No signs of recent use are visible; its drawers are empty, and its colorization fades into sepia-tone. In-between the two drawers is a door, which is in good condition compared to the dressers; its wood has few scratch marks and the doorknob seems recently polished, as the light slowly washing in through the window made the metal glimmer like morning dew on a flower.

The rest of the room is just as unimpressive; plastered to a far off wall, a handcrafted coat hanger remains the only thing of note. What it cradles is of particular interest. Resting upon the hanger is a contraption that reflected the light like a mirror. It is rectangular in shape, and has two main limbs that fold tightly together to compress its size. Its metal is a sleek silvery-blue, like that of the brightest stars in the sky. At the very tip, two pieces form half crescents and hook back into the folded limbs. A grip forms at the other end, whose metal is slightly thinner than the rest of the rectangle it was a part of, and had small groves for fingers to grasp easily. This part creating a carry-able handle. Nailed to an adjacent wall, a beautifully whittled decoration brings some much-needed coziness to the living quarters. The picture frame's wire is made of some sort of charcoal colored animal hair, carefully woven into a taut string. Being cleanly cut and sanded, its frame is smooth to both the eyes and hands; its only defect being the nails pounded into the corners of each individual piece. The picture inside contained a giant tree, with a young boy standing in front of the trunk. He wore clothes that were quite baggy on him, pant legs nearly dragging on the ground. His hands clasp his forearms; eyes shyly averting the camera, but beaming excitement nonetheless. The caption read; _"Iron Tree, Home of Yahto Tiama!"_ in a bold silver font.

A desk stands stalwart a couple feet away, just in range to gaze into the picture. A humbly built chair accompanies the workspace and a battle-worn silver briefcase is plopped on the top of the desk. The rust on the handle darkens the sleek silvery appearance of the metal, and its sides are full of scars and dents. However, when touched felt as strong and durable as if it just came out of the blacksmith's shop yesterday. A faint blue glow oozes out the sides of the container like a glow-stick grasped by an overzealous dancer at a rave. Next to the desk, an average sized bookcase holds various types of reading material. Most about philosophy and the nature and properties of lightning dust, though an occasional autobiography of some of the great contemporary hunters and huntresses are shoved in-between the other books. Their texture is smooth and some still have the new book smell, though coffee stains are abound in the more dated books. A mini hurricane seems to have scattered papers across the area, littering the ground with flimsy white sheets. A direct testament to entropy, the sloppily written pieces of paper carelessly lie on top of the chair seat, the mildly dusty floor, and a cannon fire of the in the bookcase stuffed anywhere where room is available. Most are a little wrinkled, but a select few are disproportionately crumpled up into a ball looking like an origami swan created by Dr. Frankenstein. Ironically, the barely legible paper notes are everywhere except the desk, where not a single flaky sheet dare lie. All that is allowed is the worn-out silver case. Only when close to the junker would one think it more than meets the eye. A faint blue glow oozes out of the opening crevice. In absolute stillness, the case can be heard to produce a low pitched hum. The lad manages to settle down and drift back off to sleep to this comforting hum, which is barely audible over the morning birds chirping to greet the sunrise.

At the base of a tree, the alpha beowolf progressively paws deeper into the ground; the golden wheat that grew beneath its weight turned to mulch as it mauls the soil. The grunts he commands soon turned into snarls. Its pack is disorganized and hard at listening. Some lost their interest and drift off elsewhere, giving up on the search for the out of reach morsel. Others still mindlessly swipe at the iron nailed to the tree, chipping and dulling their claws on the unyielding defense. The pack gets nowhere fast, and the frustration kept building. Finally, fierce howls of the alpha permeate the area, causing the lower beowolves to stiffen in place. Their hollowed eyes slowly turn to reach the alpha, whose knuckles now pummeled into the ground. It bounds over to the tree on all fours, tearing deep into the dampened forest bed. Upon reaching the tree, the pack retreats with heads lowered, giving ample room to their leader. The blackened monster taps at the plating with the needle-like tips of its claws to test the integrity of the defense. It carefully moves its paws up to the top of the plate, where a narrow strip of bare bark is visible, and edges its way to where one of the hammered nails bore into the timber. Stopping, the animal stretches its digits.

The alpha's nostrils flare as it moved in closer to get a strong sniff of the small spike. Wafting multiple times before giving a content grunt, the beowolf stands upright on its legs and grabs the edges of the lowest metal plate. It huffs and puffs, pulling with all its might. The metal clings to the bark as a frightened toddler to her mother, but the wolf is too strong. The last nails holding it in place tear free from the bark, a blur of ashen fur launching the protective plate over to the rest of the pack. They paw at it, pushing the hunk of debris around. Each one delightfully howls that the tree's protective shell is stripping away. The alpha wastes no time in pulling off the other metal plates, contorting the iron into a wave. Its integrity wanes, making a creaking racket as it yearns to stay attached. Reverberating to the treetops, the noise burrows into the eardrums of the resting human above.

He strains to sit up, and arches his back to stretch. His chest rises up, filling his lungs with the combination of a fresh spring morning and the faintly musky stench of the wolves below. Holding it for a moment, he releases the air as a candle-extinguishing gust of breath from his puffed up cheeks. Rolling his neck around, the pajama-clad young man drowsily mumbles to himself.

"Okay, yeah. They're not going anywhere anytime soon. Stupid overgrown RATS!"

He drags himself out of bed, and manages to stand up on his feet. Looking around, his cerulean eyes dart from one corner of the room to another. Yahto scans for something, but the object wants to play a game of _Where's Waldo_? Becoming impatient, his foot starts to rapidly tap on the hardwood floor, and he grinds his teeth together. His delirium breaks for a frantic search. Scuffling around the room, he cranes his neck and darts his head from the desk to the drawers. Papers fling into the air only to uncover nothing. They drift back down to cover another previously searched area, only to be pitched about elsewhere for fear of missing that one square foot of floorboard. Mouth agape and quietly panting, Yahto stands slouched in the middle of the room.

"You have got to be kidding! Where was that hunk of junk kicked off to this time?"

Closing his eyes, he groans and brings his left wrist to his forehead. A clashing of plates below remind Yahto of the furry threat. After racking his brain trying to figure out where he last put his gauntlet. Yahto slowly lifts his eyelids and glances at his left forearm. Instead of the fleshy light mahogany color of skin he expects, a shiny caramel toned brace leaves him perplexed. He bites his tongue and uttered a low growl. The bronze gauntlet he's looking for was on his arm the whole time.

"Yep, fine, whatever. At-least I found it."

Yahto scratches the back of his head and walks to the far side of the room adjacent to the cabinets. Shoving his feet into a pair of tan moccasins, he proceeds to grab the metal brick that was hanging on the wall, his sluggishness nearly causing him to drop it in the process. Flipping the contraption around to grasp it by the handle, he put one arm over the other and slides the reflective object onto the gauntlet. Sliding down a groove in the gauntlet that resembled a drawer-slider, the two pieces click and interlock together. The handle of the former wall ornament hovering just over his wrist. Rotating his arm around for a quick check-up on his equipment, Yahto deems it satisfactory and grabs a lever protruding from the wall. A sharp pull reveals the wall as a door, pushing out a bit into the expanse of air and leaves. The door moves by two wheels placed on the edges of the floorboards, causing an audible rolling rumble upon opening. Gazing down, Yahto sees the beowolves working on their fourth plate, and would soon start attacking the base of the tree, likely to topple it over and feast upon anyone left once the smoke clears. He scoffs,

"Okay mutts, maybe you don't have the intelligence of a twig. Let's have some fun."

Done peering, Yahto let one leg dangle into the vast expanse of air outside the floor of the treehouse. Shifting his weight, he allows himself to tip past the floor and freefall down towards the wolves. But this momentum only continues for a brief moment. His feet start to cling to the outfitted iron on the tree. Channeling his inner surfer, he crouches upon contact and extended his arms out, skidding on the metal sea. Wind rushed through his hair and a static clacking could be heard coming from his feet. Heading directly for the pack, Yahto rushes towards them while his presence remained undetected much like mice that are too busy focusing on their next meal to notice when a bird of prey swoops down from above, the wolves continued their destruction of the tree. Yahto tilts his center of mass back and forth, skating around the tree trunk as he falls. He twists the handle of the contraption on his gauntlet, and the bluish-silver material unfurls itself as wings of an eagle prepare for flight. The weapon links together by a combination of gears, metal extensions, and an internal magnetism inside the segmented pieces. Once extended, each limb of the contraption is at a length similar in size to that of Yahto's forearm; the limbs shimmer in the dawn. In the back, the hooks spin and clanked their way to the ends of the limbs, two sparkplugs emerging from the tail end of the segments. These flicker for a moment, and surge to life a blue electric bowstring.

Dancing between the electrodes, the bowstring permeates the air with a quiet crackling sound. Yahto outstretches his arm, and brings his weapon directly in his line of sight; taking a sniper's stance. He takes his free hand and pulls back on the jittering bowstring, which repels away from his poised fingers. A sparking blue broad-tipped arrow materializes from the string, and Yahto rains a quick volley down on one of the Grimm below. The arrows hit their mark, but instead of piercing the flesh of the creature, vanish upon delving into the hide above where the heart would be. The body of the struck Grimm seizes up and judders; remaining as a statue as the current courses through its body. Channeling its inner porcupine, the beowolf's fur stands up on end in fine points for a few moments, before tipping over and hitting the ground with a thud. The rest of the pack looks up to the sky, only to see a waving boy two dozen meters above their head. The alpha's back rises up, and his teeth are on full display. It slinks away from the base of the tree, while the other beowolves were still clamoring at the trunk. Their blood red eyes focus upon the morsel above them.

"Good! Now that I have your attention, we can get this thing started. First things first; INTRODUCTIONS! I'm Yahto Tiama, keeper of peace, protector of freedom, and wrecker of your day! And you wonderful gents are?"

Yahto bows and gives a courtly sweep of his arm to the pack, actually expecting them to say something in return. He stands in this pose for a good ten seconds before jolting back upright. The beowolves tilt their heads and alternate gazes from the lunatic above them to the rest of the pack. Yahto's eyes narrow, and dons a skeptical frown. Brushing aside the platinum hair that hung down over his face, he says,

"Hey, we can't do this whole "fate of the world battle" thing until you formally introduce yourselves. You know, Ye Olden 'Hunter's Honor Code' and all, right?"

The Grimm keep staring at the kid above them. Crossing his arms, he scuffs his foot on the iron to which he clings. His scuffing creates a molten spark of metal that twinkles down to the ground, landing on the nose of a young beowolf. A high-pitched yip comes from the creature, who frantically shakes its snout to relieve the pain from the glowing iron speck. Yahto's face brightens and proclaims,

"Hi there Ipe! Nice to meet ya. See? Ipe gets it. Why can't you be more like him, guys?"

Prolonged dead silence is their only response. Yahto seems frustrated until he has a revelation from heaven dawn upon him. Covering his mouth in embarrassment, he apologetically squeaks out,

"Oh wait a minute! You guys are mutes aren't you? I'm _sososososososo _sorry! I just assumed you were ignoring me; instead I've been dragging the intros out for all this time when you guys can't even speak! How silly of me!"

After a few rounds of bowing and asking the wolves for forgiveness of his blunder, Yahto eases his humiliation. He returns to a docile mood, begins to rub his arms, and rolls his neck around in its socket.

"Alright. My bad, but if it's all the same to you fine gentlemen, I'd say that…"

Stopping mid-sentence, Yahto turns his head and nuzzles his scraggly face in-between his bicep and forearm, letting out a heavy yawn. Raising his other hand towards the wolves, he signals the "one moment please" hand gesture to the pack of claws and fangs below.

One of the wolves has enough of whatever this human was up to, and crouches low to the ground, tensing up its muscles. It releases the energy stored in the pose and wooshes up as if it jumps off a springboard. Glancing over, Yahto draws back his timeout hand and cranes his neck backward. The wolf closes in towards Yahto and comes inches from Yahto's face, snapping with its fangs making a sick, clasping pop. The hot breath of death and decay blows straight into his face from the wolf's nostrils, and Yahto grimaced at the stench. In response, Yahto's body starts glowing a luminescent blue; sporadic sparks of electricity appear, circling around his arms and legs.

A swiping paw of knives is about to tear his arm off, when he reaches out and touches the cold, wet nose of the beowolf. He raises his voice an octave and playfully quips,

"Zap!"

The beowolf momentarily seizes up and freezes in midair. It fell as a fleshy stone free falling to the ground, crashing right into another member of the pack. The wolf has its ribs crushed, but remains reaching out from underneath the charcoaled body attempting to free itself. It yelps to the other beowolves, though they remain focused on the meal just out of reach.

"That was kind of a cheap shot." Yahto remarks to his audience. "Come on now, why don't you play fair? Well, I mean, you _could_ go all sleazy on me, but you'll just end up extra crispy like your friendo down there."

The beowolves growl, and tear at the base of the tree with a newfound vigor. Chucks of exposed bark come splintering off the trunk, and the rest of the pack are trying to tear off the other pieces of armor. Mouth agape, Yahto's eyes widen.

"Heyheyhey! I'm your target here wolvies! Stop attacking Iron Tree! She never did anything to you!"

The wolves ignore the cries of the distressed boy and continue to slash at the bark. Yahto sighs and shakes his head. His attention turns to his weapon, this time completely detaching it from the gauntlet. Clasping one of the limbs, he gives the grip another sharp twist. The weapon clinks, and responds with extending its limbs to twice that of what they were. Tesla coils morph into place three fourths of the way up on both limbs, and a brilliant maize colored electricity arc around each of the coils. It plays inside its confinement and sometimes dances outside them, but the bolts never escape from the weapon. The grip elongates, making for easier handling and target acquisition.

Yahto snaps his fingers, remembering something from a once long lost train of thought. He begins to tap his foot on the iron. Sparks of static electricity jump from his moccasin to the metal, and he brings his bow up to a firing position. Drawing back, an ever-growing blue arrow of electricity surges into existence. Having reached about 50% of a maximum draw, the arrow hovers around the length of one of the wolves' claws. The broad tipped arrow crackles and pops as muffled firecrackers; its energy blade sporadically sparking and shooting off flicks of energy into the air around it. Yahto half heartily sings to himself,

"_Took all the windows from prisons and schools_

_Now what's a poor man left to do?_"

He lets loose the hungering arrow towards the Grimm, zapping one of them knocking it unconscious. After firing the first arrow, he starts the next verse. Bolts of blazing blue lightning thunder from the sky unto the monstrosities, scattering their ranks and sending them into a panic. The beowolves drop left and right, all ending up as smoldering chunks of flesh. Three wolves remain: the distant and cautious alpha, one coward running for is life, and another ignorant fool clawing at the base of the tree. Yahto decides to take aim for the one scampering away. He brings the bow unusually close to his face, the string nearly blocking out everything else in view except his peripheral vision. Yahto angles his head, and bites over the string, pulling back with his head and teeth. The bowstring tenses up, and another cackling arrow forms. Yahto gets a bead on the beowolf, sufficiently leading the target for accuracy. Singing through his teeth, he warbles,

"_Revolution, on its way_!"

Releasing the arrow, it bolts straight into the fleeing back of the beast, ceasing all motor functions, tumble-weeding into the amber wheat; only a couple dozen meters from Iron Tree. He turns his attention to the wolf at the base of his home, still hacking up the sturdy bark. The gash it creates is over a foot deep, but it is hardly a flesh wound for the gigantic tree. Yahto smirks, and spins around to face the cotton candy sky. Making his arm chicken-wing behind him, his bow is blindly pointed towards his enemy. Drawing the string and pulling forward past his head, Yahto thoughtlessly fires below him, exclaiming,

"Bonus points!"

The arrow whizzes through the air with a drone, finally drawing the beowolf's attention away from the gaping hole it badgers to create. The wolf freezes, unable to avoid the harbinger of death that zips towards him. Bracing for impact and tucking its bushy tail between its legs, it waits for the eventual end. The arrow slips past its face, and darts into the ground next to him, leaving no injury to the beowolf. It tilts its head to where the arrow landed and gives a delayed howl of delight.

Yahto dips his neck back to see his handiwork, and sees the beowolf still standing, not a burn mark on it. Yahto rolls his eyes and groans, quickly turning around and firing with a normal stance. This arrow pierces the air and screams directly into the eye of the Grimm. The beowolf was still celebrating his fortune when the arrow hit, sending it into seizure, collapsing into the ground.

"Next time just move into the first arrow, this stuff doesn't come cheap."

Yahto's final target was the skittish alpha, who whimpers quietly having watched his entire pack be obliterated by this lone jester. The beowolf makes quick dashes back and forth, frantically trying to come to a resolution. An internal struggle of urges goes through its mind; that of running for its life, and feasting upon the human that stands above him. The wolf flattens its ears and wails, frustrated at what to do next.

Yahto laughs at the confused creature and starts to mimic the movements of the alpha. He hops over to one side and then the other on the metal armor of the tree; prancing about as a kid on a snow day.

Yahto takes one giant leap and falls back onto the iron, though this time; his feet have no quarrel with gravity. They slip and hold no traction against the slippery surface beneath him. Yahto's smile vanishes and he inhales a quick gasp of air. He starts skidding down the trunk at a greater and greater acceleration. Hysterically waving his arms to stay upright, Yahto slips straight for the hard, unforgiving ground as a drunken surfer on a rogue wave.

"_nononono_NONONO! SSSTOOOOOPP!"

A couple of meters before impacting Remnant Wile E. Coyote style, Yahto thrusts his arms down towards his moccasins, sending a jolt of electricity to them. Feet slamming into a brick wall, he postpones his death to another day. However, the momentum that carries him all the way down is unrelenting, and his body swings down as a clock-hand on cocaine. Feeling his weight shift and wind screeching in his ears, Yahto braces for collision between him and the tree. His chest slams into the metal knocking the wind out of him. Surely his face is about to become a pancake, but all he struck is more air. Yahto ends up falling right above the hole Ipe has so generously dug out for him. Grasping at any stroke of luck he could find, Yahto lifts his arms and pushes off the jagged bark, diverting his movement parallel to the ground and towards the alpha. Corkscrewing in the air, he lands with a sloppy tumble and roll, managing to somehow springboard himself off the ground at the last chance. Ornate with wheat stalks sticking to his clothes, Yahto comes to a stumbling halt, bending over and hacking up a lung. Fist over his mouth, his stomach convulses, yearning for the sweet air to reenter his body. The alpha beowolf freezes, watching his opponent as attentive as any desperate animal would. The wolf licks its lips, and a string of drool hangs down its lower jaw. A standoff between the hunter and the hunted commences, unknowing who would come out on top.

Yahto manages to ease his coughing, and gulps down some air to stop himself from passing out. He struggles to say,

"Urgh…well that…could've been worse."

Regaining his composure and brushing off the clinging stalks to his clothes, Yahto returns the animal's gaze, eyeing him up as a piece of meat. He notices the hide of the creature seems to be incredibly thick, blanketing the vulnerable points with a tough natural coating. Its bony mask hangs over the eyes and outlines the lower jaw with protrusions of some sort of natural red coloration. The wolf's defenses seem to have grown specifically to avoid death by humans and their weapons. It slices the ground with dagger-like claws, and its tail raises, swishing back and forth. A deep, guttural warning growl comes from the throat of the alpha, signifying all the intentions it needs to.

Yahto snorts and grabs his weapon from the gauntlet, standing tall against his opposition. He cracks his knuckles and activates his aura. Yahto glows a luminescent blue, and wisps of cyan electricity swirl around him. Determination swells in his chest, and he brings his bow up to eye level, drawing back a beautifully destructive broad-tipped arrow. His hand lets the arrow slip from its chains, aimed directly at the alpha. The arrow shot is on its mark when it reaches the end of the bow, but upon leaving the limbs, it pulls a Houdini, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Yahto gives an overemphasized gasp, and whips his bow clear out of sight into the brush-line; he woefully wails,

"OH GOD WHHYYYY?! Why did I have to run out of dust now!? There is absolutely no possible way for me to beat this strong, intelligent, powerful, -and might I add handsome- Grimm now! He will surely eat me up like the pathetic human I am!"

Yahto collapses to his knees, comforting himself by plastering his hands to his face, and sobs as if he was auditioning for Vytal's next big soap opera.

The Grimm is anxious more than confused, and the primal urge to destroy humans eventually wins over. This is its chance. Its moment to scratch that itch it has had for months; that instinct to consume would be satisfied, if only for a couple days. Springing from its powerful hind legs, the Grimm charges at Yahto for all the bloodlust it is worth. Yahto remains in his curled up position, rocking back and forth and wailing like a banshee. However, he watches the incoming wolf with hawk eyes through the cracks in his fingers. The snarling beowolf leaps into the air and blocks out the sun, casting a malicious shadow upon Yahto. Seeing the huge claws glimmer in the light, closing in for their final devastating attack, Yahto's body flashes for a moment and following suit of his arrow, vanishes without a trace.

The alpha slams into the ground, swiping at nothing but soggy wheat and lost opportunities. It rolls over onto its feet and feverishly looks around. The boy is nowhere to be seen. Crying out into the sky, the alpha becomes furious, but his howl did not last long. Upon exposing its throat, Yahto reappears right below the creature, palm clutching a condensed ball of lightning, scattering small bolts of electricity in every direction. Its brilliant light is the only thing the beowolf manages to glimpse before Yahto shoves his attack straight into the base of its unprotected throat. The creature absorbs the static ball into its hide, and its body shakes violently. Its neck almost breaks on the spot from the spasms that rocks its nervous system. Arcs of electricity spring from the sails on its back as the current travels down the spine of the Grimm. After the tail puffs up into a fluff, the beowolf collapses and moves no more. The last thing it hears before fading to black is the boy uproariously laughing.

Yahto walks up to the limp creature, knocks on the alpha's bony head, and jokes,

"Good acting right? I was just kidding! Learn sarcasm ya juiced up weasel."


	2. Clean Ups are Never Fun

Dawn has fully arrived, and gentle sunbeams grace the forest with their presence for one more day. Its soothing warm touch enveloping Yahto and his blacked-out friends. Yahto bends down and stares into the glazed over eyes of the smoldering alpha, checking if it still had some spunk left to spend. He blinks once, and frantically waves his hands in front of the beast's face. The body remained motionless, and Yahto decided to take it a step further. He began to make silly faces a foot away from the once terrifying monstrosity. His face contorts and his tongue zips back and forth like a fussy toddler. After finishing his circus clown act, Yahto deemed the Beowolf unconscious. He looks around to see the remaining bodies of wolves scattered about as a child's neglected toys. Nodding to some unknown criteria, hed went to search for the bow he had through off into brush. Walking over to the area where he whipped his weapon, Yahto talked aloud to himself.

"That wolf was no pushover. If I tried anything with Wakinyan's Feather, it would have just pissed it off and I would be two attachments short of a body."

Yahto looks down to his hands and allows his semblance to flow through his arms. A faint sparking came from his fingertips. These sparks became haunting lights in his mind as his vision went black. Yahto abruptly stumbled, and his eyes fluttered, rolling into his head. Before losing all of his orientation, he recovers and takes a deep breath, standing still for a moment. Sensing his body feeling distant, he plops to the ground on his butt.

"Seems I may be running a bit low…"

The soil was cool and a little damp, but Yahto didn't mind. Putting his hands behind his head, he reclines back and stretches out to look up into the sky. It was a brilliant light blue; the sun finally mustering the courage to beat back the darkness and show the world its colorful splendor. The sky's reach seemed endless as a vast as mysterious ocean. The only island that remained in this infinity pool was the moon. It was in full last night, as none of its fragments were visible. The moon's white dusty glow remained fastened to the sky like a lighthouse beacon on a foggy night, heralding passage to the long lost souls in need of guidance adrift in the endless ocean. Yahto forcefully shook his head, pushing back the haze and began to rub his hands together. He let his heart rate return to a normal pace, pushing himself off the ground, and returned to his feet. Yahto meandered his way past the sprawled out bodies of the Grimm and Iron Tree towards the tree line not far from his lofty home. Undergrowth blocked his entryway towards the thicker part of the forest. The brush wasn't very high, just barely above Yahto's head, but what it lacked in height it made up for in density. Yahto minded his footing to not trip over a stray root, then pushed an obstructing branch out of his path.

"_Ye_-OW!" he yelps.

His hand springs back from a sharp prick, causing the branch to recoil back in his face. Having a face full of spiny leaves scratching his face and the branches of nearby shrubs closing in on him, Yahto panics and barrels through the rest of the foliage sacrificing finesse for speed. Upon exiting, the throbbing sting in his finger became all too apparent. Inspecting his minor wound, he found a sizeable thorn embedded into his thumb. Yahto swiftly jerks the thorn out of his flesh and throws it back into the enclosed vegetation from whence it came. His thumb began to ooze blood, aura swelling around it, but to no effect.

"Good for nothing…." Yahto irritably remarked.

His objective changed, and he returned to the brush-line that he emerged from. Meticulously searching each individual plant growth for something; stopping to shake the blood from his thumb periodically. His gaze lands upon a bush that had long flowing leaves drooping from its trunk. The leaves had a distinct yellowish tint to them with black tips, and they had a sticky substance covering the outside foliage.

"Bingo."

Yahto swips two leaves from the shrubs's bark and outstretches his wounded hand. Momentarily holding one of the leaves in between his teeth, which left a honey like texture upon them, he rolled the other leaf into a cigar shape and pointed the tip down towards his bleeding thumb as a syringe. He dips the black tipped leaf into his wound, giving a painful initial sting that made him grit his teeth, but soon the pain began to disappear and Yahto sighed in relief. He takes the remaining leaf from his mouth and bandages his thumb with it, weaving the leaf in on itself securely fastening it over the damaged digit. Licking the texture off his teeth with a vigor that would impress a dog with peanut butter in its mouth, Yahto tests his range of motion of his thumb. He gives a wrapped thumbs-up to shrubbery.

"Quid Pro Quo, right?"

Scoffing, he turns his back and resumes his search for Wakinyan's Feather. Treading on soft dirt, his footsteps were as quiet as a fox's due to the cushion of his moccasins.

_It has to be around here somewhere…_

Yahto notices a faint blue glow coming from behind a burly tree six meters away, and chucks of bark lying next to an adjacent tree. A scar brandishes the trunk, and Yahto could only presume that his weapon ricocheted off and landed elsewhere. Strutting over, the faint glow intensified and its light bounces off the embroiled foliage like a playful nymph.

"Found you, my precious!" Yahto rasps.

Grasping the bow and giving the grip a twist towards his body, the bow shrinks itself into its handy rectangular shape. Yahto flips it about, toying with it for a moment, and locks it back into place.

"Phase one, finished. Proceeding to phase two."

He backtracks his strut in the direction of Iron Tree, carefully avoiding any unnecessary cuts or stabs this time around. Upon reaching the familiar wheat around his home, Yahto begins to hum a tune and gyrates his body reminiscent as an old swing dancer. He moves along the field in this rhythmic matter until he freezes on the spot, hand pointed in the air and his left leg bent at the knee like a flamingo. His face scrunches up and nostrils flare. Yahto quickly pinches his nose shut and spat in the ground.

"What is the matter with this smell!?" He choked out.

The odor seemed to be originating from Iron Tree, and walking towards it, the smell only seemed to confirm his theory as it crusaded into his pinched off nose.

"I didn't know trees of your caliber were so uncouth!" Yahto grimaces.

He was about to inspect the bark when a whimper overtook the ambient chirpings of the forest. Moving around the base of the tree, he found his charcoaled wolf from earlier and the fleshy cushion it landed upon. It seems the crushed beowolf was still kicking, well, metaphorically. Its legs were in fact pounded into dust and its blood expanding around the other wolf and around the roots of Iron Tree. However, the wolf was still alive. Once seeing Yahto, it flattened its ears, and sounded off a hush growl. Yahto's face straightens and crosses his arms.

"You've seen better days, haven't you, monster?"

A labored snort was its response.

Yahto's neck craned to survey the injuries. A grunt was his diagnosis.

"Nothing I can do for you I'm afraid."

He grabbed his weapon and unfurled Wakinyan's Feather back to its bow form. Yahto revs the grip once more and the bow separates into two pieces. The sparkplugs on the end rotate around and face away from Yahto. Jagged blades emerge from the limbs of the divided bow, and talon-like spikes sping out opposite of the blades. Wakinyan's Feather was now in its final form, a set of electrified tomahawks. Yahto hovers over the weakened wolf.

"Take these and call me in the morning."

Yahto raises his arm and lops off its head with a serrating buzz from his weapon. The head plopped to the ground and Yahto reconnects the two weapon pieces and locks it away. The Grimm instantly began to dissipate; its neck and nape were the first to go. Pieces of flesh and blood scatter off into the wind breaking down into nothingness, like a storm when he crouches to watch this vanishing act. His hand caresses the fur that give way to air and he mumbles to himself.

"No matter how many times I see this, I just don't quite understand. How does something go to nothing in the blink of an eye? Where does the flesh go? Does it return? Perhaps more importantly, why? Do the Grimm have any freedom in this, or does some larger, unseen force control them? It's been years and I still have more questions than answers…."

Yahto stands back up and gazes at the moon, whose soft light still lingered in the sky.

"Don't suppose you have any answers for me, do you?"

There was a long pause of silence, and Yahto continued,

"Thought so. Well, I guess the only thing left to do is to take these boys to Capture Corp."

_With any luck, they didn't wreck the vehicle. _Yahto thought.

He walks over to an opening in the forest and inspects a huge camouflaged tarp draped over something. Seeing little damage, Yahto yanks the tarp off to reveal a large motorized vehicle. Its features were a cross between a pick-up and a dump truck. The cabin of the vehicle is rectangular and quite solid, appearing to have taken a couple hits in the past with dents riddling the frame. Its wheels were incredibly large; nearly half the size of Yahto and the height of the entire truck was double of his own. The flatbed is massive; able to comfortably fit three large ursa into. The sides of the flatbed curve inward, cradling any cargo it would need to carry.

Yahto digs out the keys to the truck at the base of a tree behind the vehicle. A rope ladder hangs on the side of the tree; Its wood looks tired, grimy, and had hints of moss growing on each ascending step. He plucks the keys from their hidden sanctuary buried in the soft dirt, wiping off the earthy remnants that clung to the grooves. He holds onto one key in particular, a small sturdy silver key with deep trenches. Fumbling around with it, Yahto's eyes rise to follow the ladder's heavenward path one more time, and reaching its limit when the upper step crosses through an opening on a wooden platform. This platform had a sturdy plank that lead its way into the canopy of Iron Tree. This pathway is the bridge to Yahto's Tree House, connecting the platform to an open balcony. The balcony hugs the entire right side of the home, sprawling out like an unraveling mat the further you traveled upon it. The verandah climbed higher as one walks it, peeking just higher than the branches that the lower levels slithered through. At its widest, a nice duo of lawn chairs remain dusty and unattended. A ghostly air surrounded them as they stared out into the wilderness the two tower above. A flimsy railing was the only thing that protected its users from falling down through the limbs of Iron Tree below. Yahto's gaze linger on the gaping opening on the side of the treehouse. The cross-sectioned windowpane is the only thing that allows light into the cozy elfin house, and it was the only normal way into the home. A thick lock buckles the window to the wall, the only thing from keeping it swinging wide open.

Yahto breathes in an echo adrift on the wind and smiles. He turns and twirls the keys on his way towards entering the truck. Hopping on the rugbar, he pulls himself up into the tacky-clothed seat and turns the ignition. The engine coughs and sputters to life, ending with the _ka-chow! _of a large puff of exhaust shooting out the muffler.

"Sometimes this junker scares me more than the Grimm…" Yahto remarks.

He drives over into the middle of the field, leaving a faint trail on the wheat in his wake. Jumping out of the truck, Yahto meanders his way towards the closest wolf and grabs the feet of the creature. Dragging it to the back end of the truck, he plops the wolf on the ground and stood in front of a barebones control panel. The panel has two buttons, one red and one green, and a lever that Yahto promptly pulls. The back end extends a metal sheet, and lowers itself to the ground creating a small inclined ramp to walk up. Yahto pushes the green button and a whir comes from the ramp; its surface slowly churning up and roll upwards towards the flatbed.

Grasping the legs of the beowolf, Yahto heaves it onto the conveyer belt, tossing the Grimm about like a ragdoll on an escalator. He does the same for each beowolf, dropping them on the belt to place them in the back end of his truck. Yahto heavily pants as he graces his presence with the alpha. Hanging his head, Yahto seethed out a frustrated grunt.

"There….has got to be… a better way…..to do this…"

Rubbing his aching back for a moment, he proceeds to tug at the wolf's arm. He huffed and puffed, but the body didn't budge. Frustration sets up shop in Yahto's brain, and he began tugging at all the limbs he could to get this hunk of valuable meat into his vehicle. Giving up upon reaching the tail and feverishly pulling at it, Yahto collapses to the ground. His chest moves as a piston while gasping for breath.

"Now what!?"

He glances over to the flatbed full of the alpha's comrades piled into mounds and back to the alpha. Yahto's eyes studies the conveyor belt at the end of the truck a couple meters away.

"Hmmmm…I wonder…" He sighs out.

Yahto quickly raises the trucks end and folds up the belt. He returns into the cab and backs up right next to the wolf. Repeating the process, the belt sprawls out onto the ground and roils up again. He grabs the Grimm's bushy tail and moves over to the belt. Hovering the tail over the belt, Yahto sends a large surge of electricity through both the metal and the beast. The tail slams into the belt and clings to the moving metal, pulling the Grimm onto it, feeding the alpha into the back end. The charge between the two was lost quickly, but lasting long enough for Yahto to give one final push to get it full body rolling along.

"Alright!" Yahto yelled out.

Having secured all of his bounty onto the ol' cluncker, Yahto hops back into the driver's seat, turns on a CD player, and blazes off into the forest.


	3. Too Many Walls

The brake and gas pedal seem to be getting their faces rearranged through the forest; the leather steering wheel receiving a serious case of strangle hold, spinning around faster than a gyroscope. Yahto was taking evasive maneuvers at the subsequent waves of trees swiftly coming up on the truck. He took a hard right and the bodies battered the left side of the truck. The mistaken identity missile launched off a large boulder, caught hang time, and landed on a hardly traveled dirt road. Yahto swerved to stay on the path and headed up the trail. Now on a more-or-less street, brought the speed of the truck to a tier above Sunday drive.

Trees started to become scarcer as the oddball pair of cargo and vehicle rolled onto pavement and passing a plastic sign reading "Welcome to Midbay!"

Its rickety structure the only manmade object in sight. Yahto thought that it acted less as a boundary and more of a glimmer of hope for those who traveled away from civilization. After all hardly any of the civilians would see the sign. Why would they? They have food, shelter, protection, all the things people love right there inside the city.

Though I would rather be wander around than need constant protection. Those people stay herded into one area for their entire lives and for what? Some food and a false sense of security? What happens when that security runs out of bullets? Still, the food aspect I can understand…..

Yahto began to zone out into his own world, singing along to the CD and thinking about what he was going to eat after he dropped off the beowolves. Some chocolate milk, pancakes, a couple eggs, and some sausage sound great right about now.

Mimicking the beat with his hands, the horizon started to fill with a tall steel wall surrounding a large settlement. Getting closer, the wall loomed above him and his truck. The sun positioned high enough in the sky, he could just barely make out the armed guards and AA turrets poised to unleash hell if anything came within range. Luckily, the airspace and dark forest are calm, and everyone was enjoying a peaceful morning. Yahto scanned the rest of the encampment and smiled. Well, except for the one inside the tower. Through the window, he could see one guy throwing a fit in front of a coffee machine; seems like his long night would not be rewarded with that bitter nectar this day.

"Seems I'm not the only one who hates mornings."

After a minute of driving, to a commotion between a trucker and one of the guards behind the gate catches his attention. Seemingly bringing in a shipment of dust by semi, the man looks nervous, pacing back and forth constantly looking over his back. Yahto muses,

"I don't blame him; this might as well have been a death sentence to any untrained driver. Even the pluckiest motorist wouldn't take that job unless they were getting paid double…triple on bad reports. Dude has some serious cojones."

The guards on top of the wall suddenly perked up and moved to various positions, causing Yahto to slow his truck's speed. They scrambled across the wall's plateau and opened up battlements in the side, weapons drawn. Yahto scans the forest line 200 or so meters away just as they guards are doing and came to idle the old clunker. He thought,

If that driver is scared now, I can't wait to see what he will do in 45 seconds.

He proceeded to park the truck and turn off the ignition. Yahto got out and decided to go over to the driver. The man was wearing a white trucker's uniform and a matching hat to boot. He is waving around his grey cap at the guards, threating to toss the rough fabric. Shorter than Yahto, his body was stocky and built like a tank. Yahto managed to overhear some dialogue as he closed in,

"….ook, I was sent by the Schnee Company to give you this supply of dust in payment from Capture Corp. You guys need it, I want to get on my way. I don't know why you are being so uptight about this. Can I at least get behind this damned gate?"

Some colorful birds from the tree line across the road startled and flew off. Not that these two noticed due to their squabble.

The guard in black and grey uniform statically responds over a voice comm,

"We cannot allow anyone in Midbay without the proper verification. It will only be a few more minutes."

The driver changes from nervous to irate,

"That's what you said 15 minutes ago! Just get me to safe-….and who the hell might you be!?" his gaze turns to Yahto, who is leaning against the side of the semi's trailer.

Yahto had to choke back a chuckle at the guy's outburst.

"No time to give you my life story Mr. Saltshaker. What you need to know is that I have a weapon, the guards are about to open fire, and you should really get back into your truck."

The driver looked skeptical when an ear-piercing roar came from the trees about 100 meters across the road. Both the driver and Yahto turn to see seven ursa barreling towards the gate. Right thereafter, a loud thud of a truck door slamming shut could be heard. Yahto saw one ursa was ahead of the pack and entered the unsuspecting field of grass, stepping on something man-made. There was faint whirring noise and then an electrical crack came from what could deduced as a trip-mine. The snipers of the guards shoot another two, who flop ass over teakettle into the ground. They didn't shoot bullets, but tranquillizer darts; for the same reason Yahto didn't kill his beowolves, what good is a research subject if it is dead? The remaining four ursa seemed to have avoided the other mines, presumably placed in the trek to the road and were still running towards the gate. Another sniper round fired, but missed its target, and they Ursi continued to their goal. The driver of the dust semi-trailer was now blaring his horn and revving his engine trying to bluff his way in. Seems the guard on duty had other matters to attend to.

Why isn't the main force shooting yet?

Yahto was just about to draw Wakinyan's Feather when the ursas started to trample onto the road. They step foot onto the pavement, and the guards opened fire. Their nerve dart guns sounding off a muffled puff through the air.

Toof! Toof! Ta-toof!

The ursas stumble and fall, not even making it halfway across the road. Yahto watches the usra fall, and eases up a bit thinking,

Ooooh. They must use the road as a marker for their weapon's effective range.

"That's actually quite clever. Not something I would expect from the meatheads." Remarking to himself.

The truck driver returned to revving his engine and blaring his horn, causing Yahto to cover his ears.

"You see that, Salty?" Yahto yells over his commotion. "You're well protected here. No need to be cowering under the steering wheel! Also no need to be rattling brain with that noise!"

The driver halts his racket and retorts back,

"Stop calling me that, my name is Fredrick! I don't choose the uniforms! And who's cowering? I was just taking up a defensive position. Now in your gracious wisdom, you think you can convince this chick to let me in?"

"Not my problem."

"Then leave me alone you cocky brat!"

"What was that? I can't hear you over the sound of me walking away."

"You piece of s-"

"Shiitake mushrooms!"

Fredrick punches the horn of the semi.

Ursi taken care of, the battlements ceased firing and the soldiers on duty go back on standby. A small capture group rallies, gathering in a communal inside of the main tower. Though everything is back to normal, Fredrick shows no signs of pausing his droning noise. People drift out of their houses just to see what the commotion was; their dazed, early morning faces hoping to catch some of the action. It seems the guard in charge of the gate finally got the proof she needed, or just didn't want any civil unrest coming from the citizens. Either way, she alerts the driver the gate was about to open. A grating metallic sound screeches as the large gate began to open up to the distressed man. Fredrick wastes no time shifting gears and entering the village. The maniac passed a couple small boarding houses and homes to either side, blazes past a yellow light, and took a sharp right around the street corner. The spectators, now finished filling their curiosity, reenter their living abodes to shut out the world for another day. Yahto decides it's time to head back to his truck when he notices some black uniformed guards inspecting the bodies on the flatbed. Guns raised, they started circling the truck and opened the front door.

Yahto's eyebrows raise and he bolts across the road to his truck.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey! Back off! The clunker and the wolves belong to me!"

Startled, they point their guns toward him and a look of surprise fastened to Yahto as he shot his hands up in the air. Their visors covered their faces, but he was sure they were at least a little scared. Judging by their height and curiosity, they must have been younger than 18.

"Uh, woah there soldiers…. New guys on the block right? It's a great thing you guys signed up to protect your families and what-not. Truly brave hearts, the lot of ya. I know all about the famous ritual of Midbay! I'm what you would call an extended resident. You've been to Bayside Bistro's right? Best cooking in town!" Yahto said smiling trying to diffuse the situation. One guard vaguely nods in agreement, slightly lowering his weapon, but a squad member elbows his ribs to keep the barrel pointed at the intruder. The leader seemed to be mumbling through his helmet comm about their current circumstance to HQ. His body was stiff and poised, this one has seen battles before, and is not as skittish as his underlings are. Seems easing the tension isn't a possibility here. Yahto's smile vanished.

Oh great. Greenies and an uptight leader with no sense of humor or information. Thanks for filling them in Commander Noirbrain.

"Ok guys. Just get ahold of Ms. Noir and I'm sure she will let m-" His sentence was cut off by the leader holding up his hand and declaring,

"Enough. I have just contacted Commander Noir. She said you are to come with us. Follow or be fired upon. Your call."


	4. Not Enough Bridges

Yahto grits his teeth.

_Just what I needed in the morning. An obsessed killjoy and her false sense of rational ready to throw me into a pit of Grimm. What could she possibly want today!?_

He begrudgingly complies and gestures for the squad leader to show him the way. The guards escort Yahto to the inside of the wall. Led up a dungeon-esque coiling flight of stairs, a scowl deepens on Yahto's with each step. He walks past the guards who surround himand gets up close to the chief. He tries to spark up a conversation with him, who has been avoiding face-to-face contact all the way up the steps.

"So almighty squad leader, what's your name?"

"Stow it."

"Stow what? Don't play the pronoun game."

"Stow your mouth."

"I would if you gave me some food, I'm starving. Didn't have time to get breakfast today."

"Aren't we all?" He flatly responded.

"Oh! You wanna grab some breakfast after this?"

"No need to."

"But I thought we were hung-"

His fist came barreling into Yahto's stomach, making the loudmouth keel over in pain.

"How was the sandwich?" The soldier mused.

Yahto dropped to his knees and coughed.

"Not bad….Think it had a bit too much fist, overpowers the taste of blood..…"

Yahto wipes his mouth up and struggles to get back onto his feet.

"That's a shame. Want to try my second one?"

"No thanks! I don't think I can eat another bite without passing out."

"Well, if you change your mind, just pip up and I'll be happy to give it to you."

"Gotcha."

Yahto shuts hit trap and hobbles up the rest of the steps. A waiting room opens up to them; nothing spectacular. A couple cushioned chairs, a wooden coffee table with a half or dozen or so magazines on it, and a water cooler off to the far left. However, it seems they don't intend to keep Yahto waiting judging from all the shoving. The door to Noir's office was open and he stumbles into the room.

He glanced over Commander Noir's office. Yeah, still the same old militaristic crap hole.

The room was of average size, but what it contained was anything but. At her desk, the woman was feverishly working on something out of eyeshot; a computer was blocking Yahto's view. Occasionally, she looked up to the dozens of monitor screens keeping the forest under surveillance in front of her desk. The monitors were nowhere near state of the art, as their screens sometimes crackle in and out of focus, but they get the job done. Scanning the rest of the room, pictures of the infant Midbay and its settlers hung on the walls. Back when this was just a nomadic settlement, you could count everyone who lived here on a few hands so the pictures had the entire town on display. The walls themselves had a barely noticeable yellow tint; strangely giving a person a headache if one stared at them too long. A thick set of transom windows stare out into the dangers of the forest. Weapons laid scattered about on an oval table accompanied by a swivel stool; padded of course. A sniper rifle here, an assault rifle there, a couple pistol pieces just about everywhere. The commander loved cleaning weapons in her spare time. Though judging by the disorder of the pistols, she hasn't had much. Her favorite weapon, the Double Indemnity, a high-powered golden assault rifle lies on her desk as always. The magazine is a shimmering black, and is a drum barrel that holds 50 rounds. Its design was sleek and smooth, and its bullpup design allows for easy handling in tight situations. Though the higher-ranking officers, due to the caliber it fires, have called it a "minigun in sheep's clothing". Tale goes that when Clara Noir first used the weapon several years back, it took down three Nevermores in a single clip. Unlike the other weapons lying about, it takes no prisoners. Yahto scoffed,

"I suppose like owner, like weapon."

A slight shudder came from the young man as he inspects the Commander. Her back turned to him at the moment, she seems to be finishing up some deskwork along with checking all motion sensors in the forest line. She stood up to height a bit taller than Yahto, finishing the last remaining checks. Her long hair flowed as a blackened waterfall on a cliff, stopping only by the boundary of her waist. Her hair obscures the symbol of the Midbay guards on her back; a golden coffin shield with the steel wall that surrounds the town in the background. She wears an obsidian uniform to go with her hair, but wears a white belt and golden knee-high combat boots as armor to offset the black. Polished to perfection, she also had twin golden shield shoulder-guards, nearly causing Yahto to squint at the reflected light. Her face has a smooth complexion with bangs that reach just above her eyebrows and intense amber eyes. She could still pass for someone in her mid-twenties, besides one obvious quirk. Her eyes, though piercing in their own right, were heavily sleep deprived and the skin darkened around them showing the sands of time Clara has waded through. This gave a ghastly and overall ethereal look to her otherwise youthful appearance. She stared down her visitor with devious intent,

"Morning Yahto."

"Morning Ms."

"I'm told that you were outside the village walls with a cargo of some odd number of beowolves heading East down the road. Is that true?" Her voice carried with a sharp and distinct feminine edge, like the thorn of a rose.

Yahto frustratingly thought to himself,

_Of course it is, you already know where I'm going. What else would I be doing them?_

"Yeah. I was heading to Capture Corp."

The commander gave a demanding look. "You will refer to me as Commander, Commander Noir, or Ma'am. You will also speak to me in a formal manner. I have no sympathy for your casual and weak dialogue; especially your choice of dressage. _Understood?_"

Yahto's face reddens, remembering he is still wearing his sleeping ware. He exasperatedly responded, "Entirely…Ma'am."

"Good. Men, attention!" Shooting a glace to her subordinates, the men all perked up and stood as straight as their body would let them. She sneered continuing,

"This child's name is Yahto Tiama. He is the only one allowed on our grounds to have a hunter's weapon and use the inept soldier's crutch called aura. He is not to be interfered with and can access the city. However, if he happens to be in the way or becomes a detriment to the safety of the settlement, you have every right to open fire."

Sneaking venom into the next bit, Noir causes Yahto to grate his teeth. "Trust me cadets, I wish to exile him as much as you do. But he has good ties to our…..**_esteemed_** partner, Jakob Cobald. Now, can any of you greenies tell me who he exactly is?"

All the newbies couldn't hold Commander Noir's expectant glare, so they hung their heads down to meet their only friend, the floor. Afraid to say an incomplete answer or because they plain didn't know, their gaze became infatuated with the black tile.

She scoffed, "Honestly, I know it's your third day, but this is _unacceptable; _expect a surprise training regimen at the crack of dawn tomorrow."

Noticing the palpable anxiety from her lower ranks, she went on. "Jakob Cobald is head of Capture Corp. He is responsible for our rapid growth from small refueling and trading village, to an armed and powerful force. The wall that protects are city from the Grimm was built upon the wealth we received from him. That wealth is given to us by our partnership. With the help of our villagers, he takes the Grimm we have incapacitated and sends them off to the Hunter schools of Vacuo and Vale. With our strength ever growing, we have been able to set up our own economy, own rules, and regulations free from the kingdoms of Vytal. Their untrustworthy and spineless representatives are not needed nor are they welcome here. That is the baseline explanation, but I expect you to know the intricacies of the supply and demand of our partnership, and what their corporate goals are by next Friday."

She eyes Yahto again, who has one arm behind his back; fist clenched out of sight and jaw sealed shut, managing to keep a straight face. "This wannabe hunter is just a pawn of Mr. Cobald…mostly. So, to summarize, leave the hermit alone and he won't bother us."

She gave a cheshire smile, "Also, remember not to mention the legendary failure of the hunters from years past around the child; specifically, that of Tali Sterling. He wa-"

Yahto's whole being burned and retorted back, "Her name was Taini, if you actually knew what you were talking about, you would know that. Also, I am _nobody's_ pawn. My actions are my own and no one else's. Now if you don't mind Commander, I have heard enough of you trying to demonize my choices."

Commander Noir let loose a delighted chuckle.

"Yes of course, you are free to go."

Yahto immediately turns his back to her and starts for the door when Noir declares,

"However, you interfered with our catch of the day. Therefore, a toll must be taken. 5 of your beowolves have been appropriated as tribute."

"You can't do that! I didn't even fire upon those dumb teddies!"

The Commander scowled, "I can, I will, _and I have._ If you want any of your remaining cargo to make it to your good friend Cobald, I suggest you leave now with no further complaints."

She bitterly emphasized each following word,

"_Is. That. Clear?_"

Yahto's face darkens and loses any signature of retaliation.

"Yes ma'am."

He passes the cowering guards and walks down the coiling staircase, eyes burning with a menacing blue spark and mouth wired shut. Unlike the time with the driver, he wasn't choking back laughter.


	5. For Every Action

Yahto cascades down the helix staircase, engraving his feet into the cobblestone steps as he travels. His bounds were as large as his disdain for Ms. Noir. Planting his moccasins into the base of the staircase, he took a running start and shoves open the door in front of him. It busted open, startling the soldiers that were clocking in for the day. After the initial surprise, they return to their placid state of the daily grind. Yet, the soldiers condescendingly stare at him, just as hard as their bitch of a leader would have. Their eyes stayed on Yahto as he walks passed, constantly judging him at every step. Looking for something to make fun of later when the action is low and they're on lunch, no doubt.

_All of them are piles of crap_.

As he went to exit the room of awkward gazes, he accidentally body-checked a royal-purpled haired girl, spinning her around and making her drop the two books she was carrying. The ID that was held in her hand used to scan in for the day went flying, and the militia rifle she carried barely held on, thanks to the strap around her shoulder. He looks back for a brief moment to see a dainty soldier, a bit younger than him, give a dismayed groan as she bent over to pick up the scuffed books. The books themselves seem much too thick to be militaristic; Noir likes to keep things short and to the point for her handouts. She picks up the girthy mounds of paper and heaves them next to her body frame; only illustrating her frail figure more so. The girl turns back and shot Yahto a look of glum more than anger. Her soft and faded yellow eyes seem to depict her as being brittle as topaz; though he didn't care. He continues his course passed the guard post and slams the exit behind him. Making a beeline back to his rundown truck, Yahto grumbles to himself.

"Everytime I see that woman, its bad news. Do this, do that, obey these rules, we're taking this as collateral, stand at attention, yadda yadda yadda. The mainstay is a real pain in neck. Noir never lets things slide and has no sense of humor….Those soldiers aren't much better, thinking themselves judge, jury, and executioner; especially McPunchALot. They're simply brainwashed into taking orders by the false authority of an appointed figure. Haven't they ever thought that _maybe_ they shouldn't fall in line just because they have been compelled to do so? And maybe, _just maybe,_ that they don't have the right to box in people they know nothing about!?"

With a frustrated grunt, Yahto climbs into his truck and slams into the drivers seat; having some of his bounty of beowolves already taken off. Had the soldiers been a little less timely, he probably could have drove off with everything and just blamed Noir's ability to command her guards. Not his fault they didn't take the opportunity. Turning the ignition and returning to the road, Yahto resumes his driving towards Capture Corp.

"At least I can enjoy a peaceful ride there."

Having driven on gravel 15 minutes or so into the wooden maze of the forest, Yahto eased and began to enjoy himself a bit more; bobbing his head from side to side to the CD playing. Capture Corp.'s facility came into view, a similar structure to the wall encompassing Midbay. The wall wasn't as gritty looking, but it was made out of better material since it was further into the forest. It also had some extra goodies like blockades and barbed wire, but other than that the same design principal was implemented. Guards patrol the tops of the wall while others took up shifts inside the compound. AA guns whir into different positions, ready to fire dust shells at anything that came into their airspace. Yahto's truck slows to a halt as he approaches the main gate. Its features were nothing special, but its material was incredibly resilient. The gate shines in the sunlight, and its pearly white metal is the closest thing to the gates of Heaven you are going to get. The individual bars were as thick as an elephant's leg and the gate itself was large enough for an Atlesian Paladin to get through with ease. Beyond the gate is a high tech facility, filled up to the brim with security cameras vigilantly watching the grounds. Cross-sectional grates reinforce Its Plexiglas windows, acting as sentinels to keep monsters out, or in. The walls of the premises were nearly as thick as the barricade that protected it, and it has an unpromising navy blue coloring. Everything is up kept so well that it's as if the compound came out of a mint condition box. Had Yahto not known any better, he would have thought he stumbled onto the grounds of some secret fort built by the Kingdom of Atlas which by the choice of some authoritarian designer, changed their color of choice of white to blue.

A sole guardsman was idling at his post, reading some sort of magazine on his work desk right outside the gate. His name was Doug, and Yahto has known him for a week or two now. His eyes were a funny shade of purple, though normally he wears a set of sunglasses everywhere he goes. Doug keeps his jet black hair in a boisterous pompadour, which was long as it was loud. The guard uniform he wears is standard navy blue, but he manages to give it his own unique spin with a gold pin he wears. It's a little worn, but he says it was a gift from his sister when they were kids; a hearken back to the good ol' times, as he put it. His sister gave the impression of being an investing bigshot over in Vale.

Yahto overheard Doug on his phone one time about how he came to Capture Corp. for the wages to help pay for his sister; some sort of entrepreneurship with a rag-tag group of hunters and a finicky faunus who owns a restaurant in Vale. Apparently, its signature drink- a special type of strawberry milk based on a recipe from a lesser known kingdom- could be the next big thing and Doug's sister wants to sell it all over Remnant. However, the faunus in charge of the restaurant is asking for an exorbitant amount of money, and she needs a ton of lien to coerce the owner. Doug was asked if he could work overtime at a new job to get that final push. Though his free hand went directly to his head at the time, he reciprocated with a grunt and a "sure thing, love ya." Doug doesn't seem to mind working here too much, but the profession keeps him on edge considering the danger involved. Yahto was doubtful Doug wanted to stay at this place more than he needed to. He desperately waved to get Doug's attention but to no avail. Yahto had to roll down his window and bang on the bulletproof glass that separated the two. Doug rouses from his traced state, puts his magazine aside, and smiles.

His pompadour flops a bit as he spins towards Yahto. Seems it was too early in the morning for gel.

"So, what'cha got today?"

"Bunch of Beowolves for the cause. Would have been more, if Noir and her lackies weren't so headstrong." Yahto grumbles back.

"Yeah, she can be a real hardass. Glad I work under Mr. Cobald instead of that bundle of fun. At least he knows how to have a good time. Give me a moment."

Doug began typing away at his computer, filling in the patrols and letting the docking bay know that there was some more Grimm on the way.

"Okay, seems like it's going to be a little bit; a convoy just came in about 45 minutes ago with a couple Ursas and a huge Deathstalker. They're just finishing up now, though it seems like they had some, umm, "complications" so-to-speak. Not sure what they can do with one of those monsters, but hey; as long as they keep paying me what they do I'm fine with it." Doug gives half a shrug, expecting Yahto to react and talk to him back. Yahto's mind buzzes.

_Ooooh no. Okay. What should I talk about? Um…Sports? What's that one with the oval ball again?...Nah, Let's try something else. The weather? No, that's dumb, it's nice out, end of story. How about the entrepreneurship with his sister? AH! But then he would know I was eavesdropping! THINK._

Yahto grimaces, trying to come up with something to say. Doug's face slightly wilts; his posture falling a bit back on the defensive.

"Uh, Hello?"

_Say something, you're making him sad! Stop being a statue!_

Out of options and brandishing his fakest smile he could muster, Yahto goes with,

"So Doug, how's the wife?"

Taken aback, Doug's face becomes even gloomier.

"Yahto, I don't even have a girlfriend….."

Yahto's spine tingles and his eyebrows raise as he speaks,

"OH I didn't me-"

"Yeah whatever. The gate should be opening in the few seconds. Good luck and stuff."

It seems Yahto hit a nerve, as right after, Doug closes the window and went back to reading his magazine, though in a slightly more depressed mood.

_I'M AN IDIIOOOOTTT!_

Yahto's head droops as he lets out a sign of frustration. Thinking what he could do next time to make it up, a loud buzz overtook the distant clanking machinery. The gate separates in two and slides across tze asphalt, opening the path to the complex. Shifting gears, the truck lurches forward; beowolves nearly bouncing out after hitting an unexpected bump. Now inside, Yahto turns to the left and passes a nearby patrol. They glance at him, but seem too busy to pay him any mind and continued their routine. Driving at a little less-than-safe-pace, Yahto heads towards the docking bay. Suddenly, he has to stomp on the brakes, sending the fleshy cargo slamming into the back of the cabin. A loud blaring of a horn blast the air and Yahto is face to face with an enormous tire. The semis Doug talked about earlier were on their way out and had Yahto driven any further, he and his hulking truck would have become a pancake. He spins the wheel and drives over to the wall, where its shadow quickly engulfed his truck, giving room for the semis to pass. They begin to puff out some exhaust above the cabin when their monster wheels catch traction. The sun's glare was reflecting off of their gunmetal bodies, but Yahto could still make out the heavy dents and gashes in their trailers' frames; a huge claw mark taints the second semi's driver's cabin. Seems that they had a lively catch this time around.

"That deathstalker must have been a real fighter…."

Now that semis have chugged by, he turns his truck back on the path towards the docking bay. After plowing over a speed bump, the docking bay opens up to him. Its smooth black pavement allows for a nice ride, at least. Three entrances lay ahead. The one closest to the way into the docking station is massive, built to accommodate only the largest of Grimm like the Nevermores or Deathstalkers. However, there were pieces of the adjacent wall scattered about the zone, like someone left a time bomb unattended. It seems like the previous shipment was not sedated correctly, as the barrier next to it was crumbling from what appeared to be, an impact zone from a claw of a Deathstalker.

_That would explain the deep dents on the semis, I suppose, _Yahto ponders.

The second opening is for the medium sized Grimm, Ursas and adolescent King Taijitus. The final entry way -where Yahto was heading- is for the smaller Grimm such as Beowolves and Boarbatusks. Passing a newly constructed helicopter pad for aerial retrieval of Grimm, Yahto maneuvers his truck and backs up to the lower level area of Grimm. Everyone is a-flutter, speed walking, shouting directions, entering and exiting vehicles. A great deal amount of soldiers and laboratory employees alike still gather near the largest entrance. The scientists seem to be arguing over the size of the crater in the wall, making ridiculous hand gestures as if that would win them the argument. Modified fork lifts putter about, and one comes up behind Yahto's truck to get the beowolves. Its forks extend, sweeps under 3 wolves, and carries their bodies by a unique adhesive that Yahto knew nothing about.

Shutting off the engine, Yahto jumps out of the truck and abruptly confronts a worker firmly grasping a clipboard. She gets incredibly close in his face and squints at him with fiery red eyes. Yahto immediately takes a step back and tries to wave her off. Her face haughtily puffs up as she slips out a dignified "_hmph_." Instead, she adorns a pair of glasses from her laboratory coat, takes a deep breath, and began to command orders to him through the fakest smile he's seen in months.

"Hello, how are you? That's good to hear. Now, if you could take this clipboard and put your name, number, address, and the number of Grimm traded, that would be appreciated. Also, state specifically what type of Grimm was captured, what vehicle they were transported in, what time of day or night the Grimm were incapacitated, time of arrival, and what they were bagged with. Oh, and don't forget about how the…."

Yahto's eyes glaze over as the woman's words meld into the beeps and whirrs of the machinery around him. He retreats into his own mind and waits for the storm to pass.

_You know what sounds good right now? Like, 5000 pancakes….But if I had that many pancakes, then I would need 2500 liters of milk. Wait, what's the perfect ratio of mllk to pancakes again? Something like a third of a liter to a pancake right? Hold on, divide that by five and take the ratio of fluffiness….._

Finally after a minute or so from what he was able to gather, a piece of that dazing sound stops. He slurs out,

"Are you finished?"

"Yes. Wait, were you even listening to me?" She warily responds.

"Loud and clear." Yahto grasps the clipboard and takes the woman's ballpoint pen. He turns the check-in sheet sideways and writes in large letters _YAHTO TIAMA_ across the sea of questions. Tossing the clipboard to the redhead, she fumbles to catch it due to the surprise. The boy in pajamas shoots her with a finger-gun.

"Here ya go. Time for me to get going!" Yahto exclaims as he frantically speeds away, running up the ramp. Half to get further into the complex, half to avoid the trivialities that the lab worker asked of him.

The woman stares at the clipboard and stands baffled. She did a rapid shake of her head to make sure she had enough coffee today.

_What just happened!?_

Calling after him, she yells,

"Can you at least fill out the customer service review so I can get a raise?!"

However, Yahto already ran into the laboratory through an automatic door; its closing ding was the only response back.


	6. Prospect of Adventure

p class="MsoNormal"A flurry of technology encircles Yahto as he enters the room, its walls canceling out the entire hullabaloo outside and a certain redhead's demands. Grimm lay scattered about like puppets without their masters, limp and fragile without someone pulling the strings. Not but 3 minutes have gone by and some of Yahto's catch is already prepping for stasis, their limbs constrained as a psychiatric patient. A worker tightens a muzzle on each one, and the shackled Grimm are wheeled out of sight through a large reinforced door. Yahto takes a gander around the room, taking in all the lovely manipulation of the monsters that attack humans and faunus so. Dozens of restraining tables, each eager to smother Yahto's wolves, have their brown leather straps dangling from the sleek metal tops. Workers align the tables, each tailoring to a specific type of Grimm's body shape. There are standard humanoid tables for the beowolves and some strange scoop-shaped cradles meant for boarbatusks. A couple types of indentations Yahto didn't recognize, their metal carved out into odd spindly shapes seemingly for tails or God knows what. Burly workers in durable armor took the Grimm off of the stacks and strap them into to their respective tables. /p  
p class="MsoNormal"They wheel off many of the Grimm out the back end towards the cryo room, but a few remained in the containment stage. Armed guards circled around these select few-including Yahto's captured alpha-and rush the tables out through a large back door. Raising Yahto's curiosity, he followed the guards out of the chaotic mess into a wide-open area. The sun blinds Yahto for a moment, his eyes readjusting to the bright light. When his vision comes through, he is facing off against a growling beowolf. The wolf swipes a paw at intruder, only for its claws to rebound off a sturdy reinforced glass screen. Yahto jumps back nonetheless, excepting his left arm to be rolling on the floor at any given moment./p  
p class="MsoNormal""What in the-?" Yahto spurts out./p  
p class="MsoNormal"As the wolf slinks away from the screen, it perks it head up, ears flattening at the sense of danger. A clanking of gears catches its attention and immediately runs to the sound. It soon lost its momentum as a flurry of shots bore into the back of the beast. Yahto looks puzzled, as the guards he chased after enter the containment area. They rush into the encampment, hurriedly releasing the wolf onto the ground. It groans and its eyes flutter, alarming the young soldiers. They scurry out in the blink of an eye and slam the door behind them, locking it with some type of 4-digit code. Yahto walks on over to the relieved men./p  
p class="MsoNormal" "Hey there! What's going on in this joint?" he asks./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The ranking soldier turns to see Yahto in his pajamas, staring him down with his question. His helmet blocks any sort of facial expression, but his voice wavers with uncertainty./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Uhh..This is the new live study area? It's construction was completed a couple days ago. Its meant to study Grimm behavior and interaction in fine detail." /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Cool beans." Yahto replies, hands on head peering into the prison. Sand covers the floor, and only one bush lies in the corner of the area, far back off in a corner. The alpha beowolf gets back on his feet and prowls his new territory, keeping his eye on the door and wall besides it./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The soldier murmurs to the rest of his squad and then finally confronts Yahto./p  
p class="MsoNormal""So, who are you exactly, and how did you get in here?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Friend of your boss and I snuck in." Yahto cheerfully replies./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Did you just say you emsnuck/em in here?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yeah? Whats-it-too-ya?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hands where I can see 'em!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Members of the squad move in and point their guns at Yahto, who reaches for the sky./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Really? Twice in one day?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Yahto's eyes widen and his jaw drops. His hands poke the air, pointing towards the entrance the soldiers just exited from./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Uh….guys? Did you hit the correct numbers on that pad? Cause that dog you put in there is shoving it open!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""What!?" The patrol turns for a brief moment back to the door. Yahto's alpha is pushing on the door, its muscles flexing under their power. However, the entrance does not budge; its sealed shut from the bar locks. Yahto takes that as his cue. He knocks one of the guns pointed at him into another squad member. Instinctively firing, the dust bullets bury into the armor of Yahto's lead captor and sends him reeling over from the impact. Yahto bolts for the door and out of the squad's line of sight. He clings to the wall right on the other side and focuses his semblance. Sparks swirl around his body and he vanishes under semblance and shadow. A couple seconds go by before the squad bursts through armor clanking and guns at the ready./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Go! Go! He couldn't have gotten far! I want him detained!" The leader growls out, hopping along with them./p  
p class="MsoNormal"They blaze a trail out into the docking area missing Yahto by mere feet. He snickers to himself and fazes back into view./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Best be on my merry way."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He strolls through the prepping station and into the cryogenics lab. Scientists typing away at their computers. Their lab coats bob back and forth, as some get up to check on a serum contained in glass vials kept far from reach. The air is much more frigid than the other rooms and goosebumps appear on Yahto's skin to prove it. Lines of gigantic glass pods flowed with super-cooled water, bubbles endlessly rising to the surface. Grimm float in each pod in suspended animation. Each body has tubes burowed deep into the skin of the monsters, a frosty blue liquid seeping into the flesh like molasses. Yahto receives a few odd stares, but he plays it off and waves back at the scientists. He meanders his way through the complex until the alarm sounds./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Couldn't leave me in peace, huh?" Yahto says, picking up his pace to a sprint, shoving the pencil pushers out of his way./p  
p class="MsoNormal"He dodges incoming workers, and side-steps past a speeding fork-lift on its way back from repair. Parkouring over a desk, he flings himself at a staircase and jumps up it two steps at a time. Yahto crashes through the door at the top to the next room. Finding himself in a narrow hallway, his view draws to a long window overlooking containment area three. Metal girders crosshatch the ceiling and the cement floor stretches for dozens of meters on end. A large number of armed workers scurried about, securing the claws of the recently caught deathstalker by enormous metal restraints. It still seems to be incapacitated, but dents in the metal walls surrounding the huge beast suggest otherwise. Yahto shrugs and picks up his speed. No time to worry about that now. Navigating through a maze of corridors and offices, he comes up on a gray-blue door with a golden handle. Geometric designs riddle the door's strangely colored wood. Engraved in-between the two doors, a smooth dark blue rock holds resolute in signifying the man behind this operation; Jakob Cobald. Yahto kicks the door open with a loud crash and comes face to face with a line of high-powered rifles./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Take one more step, and we blow your brains out." A guard calls from the side of Cobald's desk./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her body armor is ornate with pink streaks flowing around her limbs. Her attire is in gruffer condition than the rest, and an upside-down triangle plate edges down her helmet. Shoulder guards careen down her arms as a waterfall, and a metal plateskirt cuts the air where she stands. Cobald himself sits in front of a window overlooking the entrance to the facility, his outline taking a veil of shadows from the light streaming into the room. Cobald folds his hands and slouches his back. Light reflects against his navy blue eyes, which stare directly at the intruder in front of him./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Great job remarking to the Sentinels you snuck into the place they were guarding." Cobald flatly remarks./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I had to make it interesting somehow."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Indeed. How do you like my part of the show?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Yahto pans around the room, looking down barrel after barrel snapped directly to his face./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Needs more guns."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Cobald furrows his brows and straightens his back. His head tilts back to burst out laughing. His partner next to him smirks and crosses her arms over her chest./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Alrighty boys, you can leave now." Cobald says./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The soldiers look back to him and then and back to Yahto, who now leans against the side of the doorway yawning to his content. They try to find answers in their leader who stands next to Cobald, but instead she just raises her palms to them. No help for her. They shift uncomfortably, guns still raised at the kid./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hold your fire! Didn't you hear me the first time? And turn off that damn racket while you're at it, it's giving me a headache." Cobald rubs his forehead and winces from the pinging of the alarm./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I whole-heartily agree. Nothing to see here." The woman says nodding./p  
p class="MsoNormal" One of the soldiers in line finally pips up and asks,/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Uh sir, what about the intruder?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Bah! He's no intruder. Yahto here just has a flair for the dramatic."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Then why were we called up here to protect you? We could have shot him down had you not have said 'hold your fire'."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Ah, but you didn't. You wouldn't want to risk to go against an order from your boss, would you? Might ruin your paygrade. As for the reason? To have some fun! Liven things up a bit. I'm sure you guys were a little bored down there patrolling the grounds. Gotta get the heart pumping every once and awhile!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Cobald smiles and beats on his chest./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Now then, you can return to your posts, I'll take care of the lad. Also, enjoy the rest of the day! It turning out to be beautiful out."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He waves them off and each soldier files out of the room scratching their heads. Yahto waves as they pass by./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Got some greenies, eh?" Yahto asks./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yeah. A whole new wave of employees started training a few days ago, figured it would be best to keep them on their toes. I don't want tinmen as guards; all armor and no heart."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Cobald reclines back in his chair, clunking his sneakers on his desk. Folding his arms behind his head, he lets out a content sigh./p  
p class="MsoNormal""You know, Abby and I here have been working super hard the past month. However, I think we are on the verge of a breakthrough. The Jotun embalmer has doubled its potency, and can now even suppress alphas for days, weeks in theory. But damn am I tired."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Cobald squints his eyes, nearly dozing off on the spot. He jolts himself awake soon enough./p  
p class="MsoNormal""No kidding. Training these kids takes a toll on me. Their so uptight coming from Midbay and Noir's watch that they cringe at the slightest mention of their names." Abby said, biting her lower lip. "Any job they take nearly causes them to have a panic attack. No bend and all break."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Well, I mean, you two are quite the prestigious duo. They are probably just intimidated by your reputation. Maybe you should have a day off and hold a cool party to show them that you are still human." Yahto says, walking to take a seat in a cushy leather chair in front of Cobald's desk./p  
p class="MsoNormal""That's not a bad idea…..I'll clear off Saturday to have a little fun." Cobald responds./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Err Jakob, what about the inspection that day?" Abby asks./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Screw 'em. They can come back next week. This Saturday, we are shutting down and living it up!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""And that's why you're the best boss around." Abby sighs./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Anyways, enough corporate jibber-jabber, how's it been going with you? I haven't heard from you in nearly a week Yahto." Cobald says, shrugging his arms./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Ah ya know, lounging around, swinging on trees, fighting and capturing dangerous monsters that threaten the very existence of world. The usual."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Sounds boring."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""I have to trudge through every day." Yahto slackens his posture, sinking into the cushioned chair, becoming one with the upholstery./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Cobald chuckles and scratches his temple; his widow-peak ever regressing into a short spiky forest of hair. He leans forward on his chair, places his elbows on his desk, and tilts his head on his hands./p  
p class="MsoNormal""If you want something to liven it up, I think I may have a little job for you."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Abby gives Cobald a look of playful worry, folding her arms in front of her. Yahto on the other hand, shoots out of the chair, eyes gleaming with the prospect of adventure./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Do tell Colby."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" Smirking Cobald asks, "How would you like to go on a boating trip?"/p 


End file.
